


Divided by a Common Language

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [76]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: English is English, isn't it?





	Divided by a Common Language

The infiltration had gone as smoothly as anyone could have hoped for but, upon reaching their goal, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin had hit a snag.

“It looks as though our lead gave us incorrect passwords,” Napoleon said, with annoyance.

“They may have been changed in the interim,” Illya replied.

They had broken into a large mansion, deep in the heart of Buckinghamshire, which belonged to a high ranking Thrush official called Frederica Eliza Armstrong. She was known to be the paymaster general for the British sector of Thrush, and the agents were in a search for the identities of those she paid.

Following the interrogations of one of Miss Armstrong’s underlings, Napoleon and Illya had learned that all sensitive information was kept in a safe, in her office. This in itself wasn’t a surprise, but the method of opening it was. According to the underling, the lock to the safe was connected to an antique typewriter on Miss Armstrong’s desk. A certain sentence had to be typed and this would reveal the safe and open it. Napoleon had tried the sentence three times but nothing had happened.

“Are you sure you’re using the correct words?” Illya asked.

Napoleon reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

“Here, I wrote them down,” he answered. “Orange and gray colored pajama fibers.”

“We are in England,” the Russian pointed out.

“I know that,” Napoleon snapped back. “I remember getting on the flight to London.”

“I mean, four of those words are spelled differently here.”

“Of course,” the other man replied. “They really should learn how to spell the language properly.”

“I believe they had it first,” Illya muttered. 

In truth, he found spelling in English to be baffling at times; whether it was British English or American English. Although, he had to admit, a lot of American spellings made much more sense to him than their British versions. He’d also never worked out why cough, rough, and dough didn’t rhyme.

Napoleon typed ‘orange and grey coloured pyjama fibres’ and was finally rewarded with his prize. Across the room, a large painting slid along the wall and the door to the hidden safe swung open. After a quick check that the papers were indeed what they were looking for, Illya tucked them into his jacket, before closing the safe and repositioning the painting.

They were back in London, and the names were distributed, long before Miss Armstrong even knew that anything had happened.


End file.
